Memorials of the Faithful

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

Still another of those who
emigrated from their native
land to be near Bahá’u’lláh was the great Nabíl.
1
In the
flower of youth he bade farewell to his family in Zarand
and with Divine aid began to teach the Faith. He became
a chief of the army of lovers, and on his quest he left Persian
‘Iráq for Mesopotamia, but could not find the One he
sought. For the Well-Beloved was then in Kurdistán, living
in a cave at Sar-Galú; and there, entirely alone in that wasteland,
with no companion, no friend, no listening soul, He
was communing with the beauty that dwelt in His own
heart. All news of Him was completely cut off; ‘Iráq was
eclipsed, and in mourning.

When Nabíl discovered that the flame which had once
been kindled and tended there was almost out, that the
believers were few, that Yaḥyá
2
had crawled into a secret
33
hole where he lay torpid and inert, and that a wintry cold
had taken over—he found himself obliged to leave, bitterly
grieving, for Karbilá. There he stayed until the Blessed
Beauty returned from Kurdistán, making His way to
Baghdád. At that time there was boundless joy; every believer
in the country sprang to life; among them was Nabíl,
who hastened to the presence of Bahá’u’lláh, and became
the recipient of great bestowals. He spent his days in gladness
now, writing odes to celebrate the praises of his Lord.
He was a gifted poet, and his tongue most eloquent; a man
of mettle, and on fire with passionate love.

After a time he returned to Karbilá, then came back to
Baghdád and from there went on to Persia. Because he
associated with Siyyid Muḥammad he was led into error
and sorely afflicted and tried; but like the shooting stars,
he became as a missile to drive off satanic imaginings,
3
and
he repulsed the evil whisperers and went back to Baghdád,
where he found rest in the shade of the Holy Tree. He was
later directed to visit Kirmansháh. He returned again, and
on every journey was enabled to render a service.

Bahá’u’lláh and His retinue then left Baghdád, the
“Abode of Peace,” for Constantinople, the “City of Islám.”
After His departure, Nabíl put on the dress of a dervish,
and set out on foot, catching up with the convoy along the
way. In Constantinople he was directed to return to Persia
and there teach the Cause of God; also to travel throughout
the country, and acquaint the believers in its cities and
villages with all that had taken place. When this mission
was accomplished, and the drums of “Am I not your
Lord?” were rolling out—for it was the “year eighty”
4
—34
Nabíl hurried to Adrianople, crying as he went, “Yea
verily Thou art! Yea verily!” and “Lord, Lord, here am I!”

He entered Bahá’u’lláh’s presence and drank of the red
wine of allegiance and homage. He was then given specific
orders to travel everywhere, and in every region to
raise the call that God was now made manifest: to spread
the blissful tidings that the Sun of Truth had risen. He
was truly on fire, driven by restive love. With great fervor
he would pass through a country, bringing this best of all
messages and reviving the hearts. He flamed like a torch in
every company, he was the star of every assemblage, to all
who came he held out the intoxicating cup. He journeyed
as to the beat of drums and at last he reached the ‘Akká
fortress.

In those days the restrictions were exceptionally severe.
The gates were shut, the roads closed off. Wearing a disguise,
Nabíl arrived at the ‘Akká gate. Siyyid Muḥammad
and his wretched accomplice immediately hurried to the
Governorate and informed against the traveler. “He is a
Persian,” they reported. “He is not, as he seems, a man of
Bukhárá. He has come here to seek for news of Bahá’u’lláh.”
The authorities expelled him at once.

Nabíl, despairing, withdrew to the town of Safád. Later
he came on to Haifa, where he made his home in a cave
on Mount Carmel. He lived apart from friend and stranger
alike, lamenting night and day, moaning and chanting
prayers. There he remained as a recluse, and waited for
the doors to open. When the predestined time of captivity
was over, and the gates were flung wide, and the Wronged
One issued forth in beauty, in majesty and glory, Nabíl
hastened to Him with a joyful heart. Then he used himself
up like a candle, burning away with the love of God.
Day and night he sang the praises of the one Beloved of
both worlds and of those about His threshold, writing
verses in the pentameter and hexameter forms, composing
35
lyrics and long odes. Almost daily, he was admitted to the
presence of the Manifestation.
5

This went on until the day Bahá’u’lláh ascended. At that
supreme affliction, that shattering calamity, Nabíl sobbed
and trembled and cried out to Heaven. He found that the
numerical value of the word “shidád”—year of stress—was
309, and it thus became evident that Bahá’u’lláh foretold
what had now come to pass.
6

Utterly cast down, hopeless at being separated from
Bahá’u’lláh, fevered, shedding tears, Nabíl was in such
anguish that anyone seeing him was bewildered. He struggled
on, but the only desire he had was to lay down his
life. He could suffer no longer; his longing was aflame in
him; he could stand the fiery pain no more. And so he became
king of the cohorts of love, and he rushed into the
sea.

Before that day when he offered himself up, he wrote
out the year of his death in the one word: “Drowned.”
7
Then he threw down his life for the Well-Beloved, and
was released from his despair, and no longer shut away.

This distinguished man was erudite, wise, and eloquent
of speech. His native genius was pure inspiration, his
poetic gift like a crystal stream. In particular his ode “Bahá,
Bahá!” was written in sheer ecstasy. Throughout all his
life, from earliest youth till he was feeble and old, he spent
36
his time serving and worshiping the Lord. He bore hardships,
he lived through misfortunes, he suffered afflictions.
From the lips of the Manifestation he heard marvelous
things. He was shown the lights of Paradise; he won his
dearest wish. And at the end, when the Daystar of the
world had set, he could endure no more, and flung himself
into the sea. The waters of sacrifice closed over him;
he was drowned, and he came, at last, to the Most High.

Upon him be abundant blessings; upon him be tender
mercies. May he win a great victory, and a manifest grace
in the Kingdom of God.

1.

Nabíl, author of The Dawn-Breakers, is Bahá’u’lláh’s “Poet-Laureate, His chronicler and His indefatigable disciple.” Cf. God Passes By, p. 130.
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2.

Mírzá Yaḥyá, the community’s “nominal head,” was the “center provisionally appointed pending the manifestation of the Promised One.” Ibid., p. 127–28.
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3.

A reference to Islámic symbolism, according to which good is protected from evil: the angels repel such evil spirits as attempt to spy on Paradise, by hurling shooting stars at them. Cf. Qur’án 15:18, 37:10 and 67:5.
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4.

A reference to the declaration of Bahá’u’lláh’s advent in 1863, as the Promised One of the Báb. The Báb’s own advent had taken place in the “year sixty”—1844.
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5.

Bahá’í writings emphasize that the “divinity attributed to so great a Being and the complete incarnation of the names and attributes of God in so exalted a Person should, under no circumstances, be misconceived or misinterpreted … that invisible yet rational God … however much we extol the divinity of His Manifestations on earth, can in no wise incarnate His infinite, His unknowable, His incorruptible and all-embracing Reality in … a mortal being.” Cf. Shoghi Effendi, The Dispensation of Bahá’u’lláh.
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6.

According to the abjad reckoning, the letters of “shidád” total 309. 1892, the date of Bahá’u’lláh’s ascension, was 1309 A.H.
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7.

Gharíq. The letters composing this word total 1310, which Hijra year began July 26, 1892.
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